


The Ziam one-shot series

by GivenTheChonce_x (LoveAndChonce_95)



Category: One Direction
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smut, completely random, i cannot, they're just so beautiful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 06:31:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9980540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveAndChonce_95/pseuds/GivenTheChonce_x
Summary: Liam and Zayn found each other... or did they ?These are all based on random ideas, threads on twitter with mutuals. I'm not much of a writer, although I'm full of ideas.





	1. Getting there

**Author's Note:**

> Liam is in need of a little pep talk.. and there's only one person capable of helping him.

_Fuck_ this magazine. _Fuck_ this whole shit. What even. He didn't want to sound _ungrateful_ but dammit, what did he do to deserve such backlash. 

 _Fuck_ the « unstanning » twats just because, **Liam** was more _**hurt**_ about the fans feeling betrayed. Fans he'd want happy and smiling were now _beat down_ and feeling _undesired_. He'd never want that, not to his fans, not to anyone. 

Attitude had done a _piss poor job_ at printing his interview. Or rather, his management had done a wonderful top one at turning his own fans against him. Fuck.

His phone rang on his bedside table. 

 

Not even bothered by the ungodly hour, Liam answered without checking the caller. 

Maybe he should have, but his red-rimmed eyes refused to stop watering so he couldn't see a damn fucking thing. Should probably stop with the eff-ing. **_Whatever_**.

 

His voice was _wet and rough_ but only his friends and fam' had this number anyway so whatever. 

He heard a cough, discrete, and then someone dry swallowing. Okay.

« _Leeyum. »_

Not okay. Checking his screen, he took the hour - 3 am - in and the name tag he'd missed before

 _« Hello ? »_     perhaps his tired brain was making him invent shit.  
_« Hi Leeyum. »_  
_« Z... Zayn ? »_ okay, maybe his brain was functioning actually.  
« _Hum, yes. Is this a bad time ? »_  
« _Considering it's 3 am, I'd say yes. »_  
_« But you're awake. »  
« Or you woke me up. »_  

That's it, fight the comforting shoulder.

He had no answer. That fucker knew him way too well.

_« Okay, I was awake. To what do I owe this call ? »_

It wasn't the first time **Zayn** 'd contacted him after leaving, but it still felt _awkward, strained, painful._ So damn **_painful_** , so far away, so _distant_.

 _« Saw the tweets. Thought I'd.. but yeah, maybe not. »_  
« Thought what ? »  
« Maybe you'd need a chat. »  
« A chat ? Yeah, right. From you ? Think I'll pass. »  
« Li'.. »    just a sigh and Liam's heart was in his socks.

_« You don't get to call me that anymore, Malik. »_

_The tears_ doubled on his face, knowing pretty obviously that all he needed was something _he'd never get_... anymore.

 _« I have a name, Leeyum... You're crying, aren't you ? »_ he added after a minute of silence. 

And he didn't say it as in « you poor baby, weak ass... » no. 

He pronounced it like someone who knew what kind of person Liam is. Someone who'd been there and witnessed, someone who'd shared and whipped tears, cuddled close and sung to sleep. 

Someone who'd been _**in love**_ and **_loved back._**

 _« Zaynie »_ Liam exhaled, sobbing now into the speaker. 

How the fuck was he supposed to react ? What could he do ? What could he say when his poor excuses of managers had fucked his chances to an apology with those messes of « I'm sorry but I'm a victim of my own fans » tweets ?

_« Li', you know they love you. They'll come around, they'll figure this out. They'll support you through hell and back. You know that. »_

And yes, he knew that, how _loyal_ and respectful his fans were, had always been. 

Would they still be now that he'd look like an homophobic, transphobic, all rainbow-phobic asshole tho ? Would they ? 

Would they still love him if they thought he didn't love them all back, to the 10000th power or whatever maths called it ?

 

He couldn’t answer so he just listened to Zayn _ramble_ in his ear, something he’d only done for him.

Zayn didn’t like to talk very much. Zayn wouldn’t share anything at all honestly, Liam had to coaxed it out most of the time. Except days - or nights - like this one. Zayn would read the whole encyclopedia to him and more if just to occupy his mind. He’d talk about music and art, flowers even and trees, animals and cartoons, anything to keep Liam from shedding more tears.

_And that was it_. What Liam needed the most. Zayn. Zayn himself, his little fragile _dark angel_ , all intricate but simple to him. His Zayn, his treasure, his Zaynie talking him out of the _down spiral_ he’d gotten himself into.

Liam felt a smile creep into his face, thanking his ex-bandmate a hundred times over in his head, silently, for calling him in the middle of the night and humoring him as long as needed. An hour and a half.

  

 _« Liam ? »_     hesitancy clear in his low voice.  
_« Hum ? »_  
« You know.. *cough* _right. I love you, ok ? »_

 

Pressing the palm of his hand over his eyes, finally getting rid of the wetness, he _murmured_ back :

 

 

 

_**« I'll get there again, Z. »** _


	2. Act like you love me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This image appeared to me while listening to Shawn Mendes.
> 
> Liam right before Zayn leaves.
> 
>  
> 
> Also.. this is my first time writing anything smutty. I'm not good at it but I feel a tad proud of this one-shot. Feel free to criticize though.

°°

The hotel room is dark, lights off and only the moon shining through the windows. Liam is hiding. He knows but he can’t bring himself to face the truth, to face the uncertainty of his future. Of tomorrow. It could all go down into pieces. The band, their carrier, their fans. His whole life burning down to the ground.

Would that be selfish to say he doesn’t even care ? That he isn’t scared about One Direction ? That he can’t give a fuck about management issues and sales and fame ? Would that make him a bad person for not sparing a thought about his three bandmates ?

His whole life could go to hell, whatever. Liam would rebuild it from scratch, and he’s sure Harry, Louis and Niall have back up plans.

_So you leave tomorrow, just sleep the night._

He can live with the end of One Direction, but he’s drowning. Liam is hiding under water, liquid filling his ears and suffocating his lungs. Fuck. He can’t handle feeling himself tumbling down. Watching himself.

The full-length mirror facing the sink in the bathroom is reflecting a barely standing Liam, jeans too low and dirty shirt too long. He’s better off to bed.

_I promise I will make things right. I’ll make you breakfast the way you like._

He moves to the kitchenette, eyeing the cupboards filled specially for him and his potential guests. Beer out of the fridge, he decided on spicing it up a bit. And he shouldn’t but tequila will do. He’s not even a drinker anymore, he really shouldn’t… but he can’t take it without.

_Before you leave tomorrow, just let me try._

 

Sprawled on the king sized bed - empty and freezing - too preoccupied by the precarious balance of his bottle and turning the TV on, Liam misses the buzzing of his phone, screen bright with an incoming call.

He’s humming the song, sipping his drink (or gulping it), not paying attention to anything. His mind wanders further and further away from this place… and he wonders.

 

What if he’d never applied for the X-Factor ? What if he’d gotten through the first time ? Or in the solo slots ? He’d never have met him.

What if he’d chosen someone else to bunk with ? What if he’d been outgoing, outspoken… popular ? What if they hadn’t gotten so much support ? If they had flopped hard and split up early ? He’d never had time with him. They wouldn’t have spent so many hours discovering the other.

  _Before you leave tomorrow, before you say goodbye._

 What about the nights, timid hands testing trouble waters, shy embraces and blushing cheeks ? What about the fallen barriers, the growing attachment, the shared secrets ? They were all in vain.

 What about the first experience, the first time they kissed, first I love you… first everything. The promises, the barely spoken words, the silly hopes… whispered forevers ? All memories and gone.

  _Before you leave tomorrow, before you leave._

 He’s just a 21 year-old boy, a young heartbroken child, like many others. He’ll be fine. This shouldn’t feel so definitive, so determinant for his life. Then why can’t he stop about him ?

 

Liam accidentally presses on « volume up » and the music fills the room , lyrics invading his mind. He knows this song… and he hates it.

 

_Stay here and lay here right in my arms_

He’s not here though, he isn’t. He should but he fled.

_It’s only a moment before you’re gone_

He’s screaming into the pillow without control.

_And I, I’m keeping you warm_

That’s my job, Liam thinks. And you’re not here. Not anymore. That was supposed to be my life. It’s who I am.

 

_Just act like you love me, so I can go on._

 The notes break through his throat, wet, rough and meaningful. A _nd act like you love me so I can go on_. Right now it seems impossible to Liam. And he despises himself because he’s being so dramatic.. but he’s losing the love of his life. He’s watching the one person who sees the real him under all the layers he’s built, he’s watching the man that woke him up walk away, run away.

 

A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts and he tries hastily to dry his skin, failing as continuous tears take the place of those whipped away. Whatever.

He pushes himself out of the bed to open the door, like the perfect polite sweetheart he is. Of course who’d care about his own issues, Liam is always there when needed.

Except when he does open it, he only want to shut it again and bury under the sheets. Why ? Why is he here now ? Gotta be a fucking joke, mocking him until the last second.

 

Liam isn’t aware of his body. He’s frozen in front of him, eyes lost on his lashes. Yes, eyelashes. That’s the closest to the amber stones facing him he can get without breaking. And even like this, he’s not sure he can stand that porcelain face and the dark stubble. He’s not sure he can look down and not kneel to that narrow waist, fall and hug the thin muscled legs. He’s not sure he can allow himself to watch.

Liam is shaken up by a tiny movement, softest touch to his wrist, a quiet demand. Can he come in ? Is Liam strong enough to face the raven haired man one last time ?

_Just one more night, lying in bed_

 

He surges forward suddenly, capturing lips in between his own, pulling the other inside by his waist. He feels the man relax in the embrace, licking his bottom lip to ask for permission. He’s always done that. After so long, he still does it. Liam opens his mouth accepting the intrusion with some hint of relief, swirling his tongue in an endless fight.

 The tears are still flowing, despite the lights caresses from soft thumbs on his cheeks. Hands are framing his jaw, keeping them flushed closed together, not a breath in between their two bodies. They stumble across the room, feet bumping into discarded clothes, holding onto each other for dear life.

 

Liam is breathing. His lungs are burning with lack of oxygen but he’s out of the water. He tugs at the hem of the black shirt and quickly it’s joined the other pieces around them. He lets his hands roam the chest in front of him, tracing tattoos he knows by heart, tickling muscles he’s seen in action countless times. On stage, abs contracting to let out his voice, at the gym, despite him hating it… in bed.

 

Liam is quickly overwhelmed by his senses, mind flying above their entwined bodies. They’ve stopped kissing, instead licking and worshipping all the skin they can get to. Liam is on top, playing with a nipple, darker hands massaging his scalp.

He needs more contact. As he straightens up on the bed, taking a second for his brain to catch up, he knows he’s going to be ruined after this. And he knows he’s going to ask for it anyway.

_Whether it's wrong or right, just gotta make sense of it_

His pants are already mid-leg when he’s stopped by an arm across his stomach.

 

« Liam. »

«…»

« Look at me »

He hasn’t met his gaze yet. He’s quite proud of himself.

« … »

«  _Sanam_  »

 

Liam shakes his head, getting the arm out of the way and throwing the boxer away. He straddles his company again, going straight for the caramel colored neck, nose inhaling the sweet bitterness of a whole day, lips sucking a tiny bruise. He tries to be everywhere, do everything, suffocate his thoughts and threatening feelings. He doesn’t want to feel. He wants to live this, fully. He wants to kiss and lick, suck and bite; he wants to make scream and moan; he needs to forget for a few hours.

_And you’ll be gone in the morning.._

He hasn’t said a word, the only sounds escaping him grunts of anticipated pleasure. He’s used to this scenery. He knows how it happens, and he knows what to do. They know how to take care of each other, they’ve learned from the start. Sweet touches and obscene caresses. They’ve done it all.

He’s already down on him, pulling his briefs away to take him in hand when he catches his eyes. He doesn’t stop his strokes. He feels it pulsing in his hand, his swollen shaft, reddening even through the coffee coloration of it. It’s gorgeous. Liam loves the weight of it, the softness of the skin under his fingers, the quickness of its reactions to his touches.

 

… _and you’ll be over this._

What Liam hates is the sadness in his eyes. The silent disagreement written on his face, the quiet plea for a word, anything but physical action masking the truth. Liam hates he knows what his partner is thinking right now, he hates that he knows he’s not going to go further… Liam hates that his arms betray him and he finds himself flushed against the toned torso below him. He hates that he can't get back up and continue, he hates the liquid drops going down his face, he abhors the sobs tearing his chest in two, heart wrenching cries his mouth lets escape.

 

« Liam. Oh babe. No, stop. Little bean. »

 

He’s being encompassed by slim but strong arms, feeling himself sink further into it, making contact with his whole body.

Liam knows what he needs. And he’s - they’ve- never done that before, but he feels like he’d die without it. If it’s the last time, if this is his last memory… he wants to remember it deep.

 

_Just one more night, so I can forget._

 

« Zayn, make love to me. »

« No, baby. No. »

Liam holds his heads straighter, eyes still watering but sure of himself, fixed on Zayn’s hesitant dark amber orbs.

 

« Zayn Javaad Malik, would you please make love to me ? »

 

He can see his gaze waver, doubt in the crease between his eyebrows and worry in the curb of his lips.

« Please… take me Z. »

 

He’s getting agitated again, needing this like he needs oxygen to breathe. Like he needs Zayn to live.

_Stay here and lay here, right in my arms._

 

This time though he sees Zayn facial expression soften, tiny motion of his head up and down, his tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips. 

« Talk me through it, _jaan_  »

And that term sets Liam’s veins on fire. There is no questioning further, there are no extra thoughts, there is only Zayn rolling them around to be on top. There is only Zayn’s mouth on his eyelids, there is only Zayn’s right hand pinching his nipples while his left reaches for the bedside table. There is only the click of the lid, and the cool soothing feel of lube down at his entrance.

« Talk to me Liam. Tell me, guide me baby. »

Zayn forces him to open his mouth and between sobs, and between moans, he helps him. He helps him going past his apprehension because he can feel Zayn is tense and preoccupied. He forces his body to relax, he forces the breath he was retaining out of his lungs, he forces his mind to focus on Zayn.

 

_It’s only a moment before you’re gone._

Zayn who is so gentle, Zayn whose fingers breach him, softly easing from one long middle to two wet knuckles deep. « More more » Zayn who starts scissoring and crooking his fingers inside of him. Zayn who is still attentive to any movement of his, Zayn who murmurs love words and sweet nothings into his ear.

Liam is just pliant below him, whimpering at his dedicated tongue caressing his twin or torturing his neck, containing his screams when his fingers hit his spot. Soon Zayn is scooting down the bed, kissing the pink head of his shaft peeking out of his foreskin, letting it rest on his bottom lip. « Please ».

Liam dissolves into pure sensation, pure bliss, the tears long forgotten. He watches Zayn lick up his hardening length, taking him whole without a blink. Liam’s body feels suffocated between the warm wetness of Zayn’s mouth around him and his insisting fingers inside. Has this ever felt so good ?

 

« Za.. Z. Zayn. Give me three. Ple - oh lord - Please. »

He hears the bottle clinking and another velvet coat on the triangle stroking his hole. And God does it feel heavenly.

_And I, am keeping you warm._

 

Zayn is making slurping sounds, bobbing his head up and down, tongue flicking around. « Teeth ».

And if he had any doubts, when Zayn fakes biting at the thin skin on the side of his penis, they’re all gone because that damn man was made for him. He’s delicate and rough at the same time, attacking and soothing the next second. He’s secretive and mysterious but right open and - oh for Jesus, that wonderful skilled mouth - and emotional with him. He’s all Liam never knew he needed.

_Just act like you love me so I can go on._

 

Another shot at his prostate has Liam jerking back into his pillow, eyes screwed shut, hands buried in Zayn’s dark locks. He pulls, maybe harder than he intends to, at his head to get him up, needing to taste himself in a deep kiss.

  « I’m ready Zayn. Please baby, please.’M ready »

 

His voice must be wrecked because it seems to ignite a rush in Zayn, suddenly in a frenzy to feel him all over, his chest beating fast against his own, wrist quickening.

 

« Zayn, stop, ‘m going to come. Baby please take me. Please. »

 

 His breathing is laborious when he stretches to reach the condom, Liam feeling empty when his fingers disappear. He needs more, he needs to feel full and he needs to feel it deep. « No.. hu. No. I’m clean. ‘McleanIswear. » His words are a mess but Zayn seems to understand. He slows, taking time to look into Liam’s eyes. « You can still say no, _sanam_. » Liam just lifts his hips, enough space to allow a pillow to pass under them. No backtracking, no. « I need you inside ». Quick.

 

Liam doesn’t let his thoughts wander. He knows it’s going to hurt, he knows it’s going to be uncomfortable and that maybe he’ll want to stop. He knows all that because he was Zayn’s first. They’ve done this together before, the other way around, he’s taken care of his little angel and he knows Zayn’ll take care of him. As he always has.

 

_When you go.. I can’t watch you leave.._

 

Zayn’s hand strokes his forehead, eyes still focused on Liam’s face. There’s something in there, deep down that has Liam’ chest swelling three sizes, heart pace strangely calming down. It’s not love. It’s bigger, wider. It’s that soulmate shit that fans keep talking about. In that splitting second - oh… it burns like hell - Liam understands all those words he never had before. The shared looks, the sweet gestures, the memories and right open PDA is nothing compared to what his heart is screaming now.

He hasn’t realized he’s speaking all this out loud before seeing Zayn fat tears fall down onto his cheeks, Zayn murmuring « shhhh, it’s alright, it’ll be alright baby. I love you. I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry. » Liam’s hands grip his biceps, thumbs caressing the tattooed skin, nails digging when he moves his hips to get Zayn further in. « Move. Please move. »

 

It takes two more drizzles of lube and a few angle adjustments for Liam to see stars. He’d slap himself for being so cheesy but that’s what he feels. Sparks flying out from his lower belly to his arms and his legs kicking without warning. Zayn is there, though. Zayn is inside and is outside and is everywhere and it feels so good. « Shhhh baby, I got you, I got you, I promise ».

 

… _just promise me you’ll sneak out when I’m asleep._

 

Each thrust gets Zayn deeper, making Liam hole squeeze around him, shiver running up his spine. Zayn fingers walk their way up his stomach, awakening hair on their path as he kisses Liam bottom lip, not breaking eye contact. His hips find a rhythm disturbingly quick but slow enough for Liam to keep up, for his body to not crumble. He can’t say much for his mind though.

« Give me more Z. »

« My eager little pup. You’ll thank me later baby. »

… or not. Liam closes his eyes and doesn’t even feel the tear trickling down his cheek. Zayn is quick to erase it with his lips, capturing his mouth next, tongue battling for attention. Zayn’s body molds into Liam’s, bending him in two. He thumbs Liam’s eyelids open, still intent on being the most careful with him. « You really… ? ».

« Shut up and go rough. »

His tone is so harsh it surprises himself. He makes amends, or tries, by doing things he knows Z’ loves. Roaming Zayn’s muscly back, pecking his lips once before nudging at Zayn’s shoulder, warning him. The groan that escapes Zayn’s throat when he bites down is devastating. He feels his body reacting so strongly he doesn’t know where he is anymore.

 

_And when you go, and you’re miles down the road._

Zayn loses it. He starts thrusting hard and rapid, aiming for his prostate at each push, Liam chasing his hips with his own. It’s somehow sloppy, uncoordinated but so powerful, Liam is whimpering, mouth in a perfect O and nails leaving red angry marks where they scratch. Something for Zayn to keep.

Zayn’s breathing is erratic, cock still pulsing inside of him but nearing its climax. Liam sneaks a hand on himself, pulling at his foreskin and squeezing his head, drops of pre-come leaking. His other hand finds Zayn’s on the pillow and their fingers naturally link, Liam bringing them to his lips, honoring every knuckle.

His heart is suddenly rabbiting in his chest and he knows he’s close. He’s damn close and it’s already over when he spills over his own fist, breath knocked out of him when he feels Zayn wetting his hole, riding it out with him.

 

_I wake up wishing everything was just a dream._

They lock eyes and there’s no place for tears anymore. No place for words, no place for fights. There’s only that larger than life sentiment, deeper than the ocean, higher than the sun. There’s only Zayn and Liam, found and lost.

 

« I can’t say goodbye to you, Z »

 

Liam’s whisper barely carries out in the night, Zayn only able to feel it through the lips brushing his collarbones. He tightens his hold on Liam’s waist, knuckles caressing along his neck, kissing the crown of his head.

 

« Then don’t »

 

_Just act like you love me so I can go on._

 

Liam doesn’t wake up when the door discreetly closes after a slim shadow.

 


	3. Rose, star and moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a concept I pictured once and somehow it ended up being the follow up to the last chapter. 
> 
> Liam is in London, in his private property, with Watson for sole company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for Maartje. I love you.
> 
> And don't hesitate to give me some feedback. :)

°°

 

« Watson, get here pup. Yeah, that’s it baby, such a good boy. »

 

The black Great Dane comes running to Liam, barely stopping before putting his front paws on Liam’s shoulders. They’ve been playing around in the garden of this big house for a few hours now, Liam bored and alone.

Watson licks his face, over-excited like a literal tiny puppy he’s obviously not anymore and barks at him, tail flapping right and left.

 

« I know buddy, gotta find something else to do. You tired yet ? Want some water huh ? »

Liam’s got that habit of talking to his dog, Watson being his best friend right now. It’s like he gets him - yes « he » because « it » sounds so bad - and tries to help him out any way he can. He had been mourning in front of the telly, not used to having nothing planned for once, when Watson had laid his heavy head on his lap, eyes sad and demanding. So Liam had decided to go outside, despite the darkness setting in and distract himself with his huge dog. 

 

« What do you say Watson ? Up for a little footie with Loam ? How about you fetch the ball while I put some coat on. Your thick skin beats mine I guess. »

 

Watson’s cry comes out as a « yes » and he speeds up to the end of the garden where he knows Liam keeps his toys. Smart boy. Liam walks around the pool and opens the large glass door leading to the living room. 

Snatching a coat from the cupboard in the corridor, he decides to take some snack for Watson, rewarding him won’t hurt. He accidentally bumps into an open drawer, making the whole cupboard shake and a frame nearly knocks him out. It’s a gift from Cal he’s received last Christmas, a send off into the break they’ve deserved. It’s almost a year old, backstage snap of the group’s shenanigans before going on to greet the Hong Kong’s audience.

 

It’s Zayn’s last ever performance with them. And Liam had been wrong that night. 

It would take a few days for the OT5 world to collapse. It would take a few weeks for them all to recover, for OT4 to rise, a few more to write a splendid album, and not once did their fans let them down. One Direction was alive.

 

It took only that night for Liam’s life to crumble. And he doesn’t think his heart has mended. 

He was never able to play the part with Sophia after that, although he’d tried hard and harder than he ever had before. She was - is - a lovely girl and he did really have f eelings for her but she was not Zayn. Her skin was not honey enough, too sm ooth, hairless. She used too much make up for Liam, choking him up with powder and lipstick. Don’t get him wrong, she was gorgeous and had he not met Zayn.. she’d have been perfect.

 

Liam’s eyes wander back to the living room where he had carefully hidden all traces of Zayn. All but that one pic and it was sickening. Apart from Harry and Louis being disgustingly wrapped up in each other, he could only focus on Zayn’s eyes on him. The soft expression on his face, the lingering touch of his fingers on his forearm, the bright sparkle making his amber orbs shine, the slight up turn of his lips, trying to contain the emotion inside. He barely registers Niall’s knowing smirk. 

That gig had been awful for him. It’d led to that night and the next morning. Waking up alone, feeling unprotected, bare and raw. Physically sore, emotionally exhausted. He had left, without a warning, without waking him up. Like he’d asked. He knew Zayn was the only one capable of that. Respecting his wishes, even if it meant being ripped open and tripped off of his own heart. Selfless Zayn.

 

A tear falling down his cheek wakes Liam up from his tormented mind, and yeah, he misses Zayn the most he’s ever missed someone but he needs to move on. He owes it to himself, to Zayn and to his bandmates. And to the fans. Such supportive and loving fans, the most endearing and smart. 

 

As he makes his way to the garden again, hearing Watson messing around, he remembers stumbling upon a twitter thread between two friends, obviously larries if their handles meant anything, pointing out every single « Ziam » moment. And adding gifs to make it less painful. Sure.

 

  
Liam falling down and Zayn’s thumb ghosting over his inner thigh. Thoughtless serenading, down straight jealousy, shy looks they’d never imagine anyone noticing. They had. Every little gesture, every air kiss, every loving embrace. Zayn helping Liam up by the hand. Liam giggling like a school girl while Zayn murmurs in his ear. They’d made gifs of literally everything. They’d even read on their lips what Liam had believed were discrete enough whispers.

 

 

_I love you babe._

_You OK babe ?_

_I love you too._

 

 

Watson’s pushing the ball at his feet with his muzzle, probably trying to distract him from his horizon staring episode. Happens a lot since last March. Counter-balancing his extraness, as the fans say, on stage. He’s been all over, and he knows it. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism. He misses his man. He’s got his boys, he’s got his fans, he’s got his fam. He’s lost his everything.

 

« Alright Watson buddy, kick it. No you monster, don’t bite it. Play footie » he laughs as the Great Dane struggles with the concept, gripping the ball with his teeth and waving it around. Liam can’t help but smile and be thankful for such good company. It’s simple but it’s something. He’s been so lonely lately. He’s been so lost and cold, the wound still open and the knife slowly twisting further in. Further down.

 

People say you shouldn’t touch a wound for it to heal. Well, people are wrong. Bittersweet huh ? Liam’s understood with time that what really helps him is seeing what happened.. that it happened. That it was real. They were really them, Liam and Zayn, together. Goofy and shy, playing and serious, so good and so in love. So, so deeply in love.

Liam seats on one of his pool chairs, kicking the ball around a little, making Watson go after it. What the fuck ever happened to them ? What happened to Liam being the only one knowing the real Zayn ? What happened to being each other’s shelter ? To never letting the other go down ?

He pulls out his pack and lights a cig, a bad habit he got from him. Him always. As much as he’d want to not mess with the healing process, he’s everywhere. He’s all over him, his mind and his house, his songs and his body. Everywhere. He’s been there for years. Even when Danielle was in the picture, when Liam was so oblivious, when Perrie’s entrance fucked him up without knowing why, when he was so afraid of this side of himself. Zayn was there. 

Every step of the way. It had always been them two. The first night he realized something was different about him and cried in his bunk bed, Zayn slithered in and cuddled him all night. The first time he said it out loud, it was to Zayn. The first time he finally kissed a boy, it was Zayn.

Zayn never judged him for taking his time. He was patient and loving, giving him exactly what he needed. And if they argued about anything, he’d make sure Liam was alright before going away. He’d come back swiftly, almost shyly with soft touches and meaningful glances. Zayn was Liam’s first man and that can never be taken away from him. Zayn was the first man he made love to and probably the last.

 

Another thought makes its way through Liam’s foggy brain but he doesn’t want to touch it. It’s too sharp in his memory, bloody edges from previous tentatives, too bright for his weak eyes. No. No, stop. His body starts shivering and waves of sorrow submerge him. A continuous stream of images invade his mind, make him blind to anything else, deaf to any sound, cornering him into that night. The memory of that night, the last one. The night he gave himself to Zayn, the night he broke. A surge of pleasure overwhelms him and his heart swells with love and longing. 

He feels the hand tracing down his torso, swirling around his nipples and flattening against his abs, warming his skin. He savors the tongue on him and the expert lips marking him up for days, he asks for it. He drowns under the fingers moving inside him and the words murmured to his ear. Liam’s mind keeps playing and replaying the film, the dog completely forgotten. What happened to them ? Why did it have to happen that way ? Why did they have to ruin them ?

 

Liam was so angry. Liam still is so angry. He opens his eyes and kicks the football so hard it disappears on the other side of the garden, Watson on its trail. They should have fought back. And he’s not thinking about himself and Zayn. That was a mutual agreement.. or supposed to anyway. Wasn’t anyone’s fault Liam isn’t strong enough to handle it. 

No, he’s talking about the music. About not battling to get more of Zayn’s influences in there. About not allowing him to express his art. Maybe he’d stay then. Maybe he’d still be a lad. Maybe he’d still be his Zaynie.

 

Watson’s taking too much time to come back, so Liam decides to go down the gentle slope of his property, calling out for him. He hears a melodious laugh, quiet as if muted by something. Nobody’s supposed to be here. Not a lot of people know about this house. Liam carefully rounds around a weeping willow he’s got planted last year, only to see a shadow other than a dog’s. Someone else. A man from the contours. 

Liam’s head is swimming before he’s got time to acknowledge what’s going on, heart rabbiting in his ribcage and sweaty palms. He knows that giggle, and he knows that body. Those thin legs and narrow hips, slightly larger frame. The boots are his even. Zayn. Zayn in his garden. His Za— no not his anymore — Zayn is in his garden, playing with his dog, what looks like a bundle of roses in his left hand. What.. what is he going here ?

Zayn quietly shoos Watson away, keeping his head down, his dark figure staying put. Liam feels his knees going weak and knows he’s going to fall… but a second later he’s caught by slim arms, helping him down to lay on the grass, crisp and cool.

 

« Hey there, easy champ.. You alright ? When’s the last time you’ve eaten ? »

 

Whatever. He feels hands cradling his face, a soft palm framing his jaw, fingers brushing his hair.

 

« I thought you were with Gigi. »

 

His breathing is a mess but Liam doesn’t even mind. He’s talking out of pure desperation. 

 

« I thought you were with Jordan. »

« Jordan’s just a friend. »

 

Zayn quirking his eyebrows is enough for Liam’s mind to clear and hope to bubble up, burning inside his chest.

 

« So.. Gigi ? »

« Just a beard. »

 

And it’s ridiculous, but Liam’s smiling. And the hope is blossoming in his throat, and he’s wrapping himself up in Zayn’s arms because whatever, he needs it. He’s shivering with the cold but he’s not alone anymore. Three deep red roses suddenly cover his nostrils and he’s inhaling the most satisfactory smell. It’s Zayn’s perfume, and he knows those are dried flowers. They’re gorgeous. Dried flowers, longer lasting. Surely a metaphor Zayn’s thought about before coming. Liam loves how that brain of his works.

 

He lifts his head to dive in the other’s gaze, finding only truth and honesty. Openness. Deep and sparkly, filled with memories, glistening with what he can only interpret as joy’ drops. He is still so in love. And he can read the love back in Zayn’s eyes. He can, definitely. 

 

Zayn is leaning in when a wet sniffling sound interrupts. The laugh that escapes them when they feel Watson nosing around their butts only intensifies when they understand why. The bastard found the snacks. Gourmand. 

 

Liam calms down first, tracing Zayn’s lip with his thumb, slowly, following all his movements as he settles down in a half pout, hesitation clear in his eyes. Liam’s finger is soon asking for entrance, pulling his bottom lip away, searching for confirmation in Zayn’s behavior. The slight smirk is enough for him. He surges forward, biting down on the flesh, coaxing Zayn’s mouth open, tongue swirling in and caressing its twin. Oh lord, he’s missed this. The familiarity, the trust, the protection. He feels safe. Whole again. Zayn is here.

 

He detaches their mouths, only to stick his forehead against Zayn’s, hair tickling his temple. It’s barely a whisper but it’s the most important of his life. It’s only a whisper…

 

« Moon of my life »

 

… but he’s not breathing anymore. The air is still, time suspended as if the whole universe was waiting for this second. And Liam’s snarky inside voice is mocking him for being such an extra drama queen. Whatever. Zayn is his life, he’s not complete without him by his side. 

 

Liam is opening his eyes, slightly stunned by the silence when a peck stops him. It’s a soft touch, hardly a kiss, just a breath on his lips.

 

« My sun and stars »

 

The tears on Liam’s cheeks are warm despite the freezing air, and he knows it’s not going to be that easy. He knows they have to talk and he’s aware of the hurdles in the way ahead. It’s worth it. It’s all worth the pain because this is Zayn. This man the love of his life. Liam feels alive.

 

And if that night, they end up prisoners of messy sheets… well. Watson is the only one who’ll know.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
